


Not Impossible.

by StydiaFanfics



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:57:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2011719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StydiaFanfics/pseuds/StydiaFanfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beacon Hills seems to finally be at a neutral state since the incident with the Oni. One evening Stiles decides to walk in into a local Diner which resulted in him seeing a broken Lydia and in pain. He makes it his goal to see her smile again. </p><p>Inspired by this ---> http://sweet-tomorrow.tumblr.com/post/92387157927</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Impossible.

It was painful, but not impossible.

If only his legs could get him out of his Jeep and take him inside the double doors into the warm local diner he came to love over the past year.

Year.

Everything that one single year could do to him. The reminder of those past few months are what held him as a prisoner inside his cold Jeep. He told Scott he was going to let go. He told himself he was going to let himself feel free, but the pain told him to sit and what the bright Open sign that was lit at 1:43 AM. Funny how he arrived when it was 9:36 PM.

It had rained and it did no help to keep the metal blue box he called his car, warm. Warmth is what he felt though when he held her hand. Warmth is what his heart felt when he made love to her and held her tight on those sleepless nights.

Lydia Martin was his warmth, and today, he was cold and broken.

“Get up, Stiles” he said with his chattering teeth. “Get the fuck up”.

 

\---

If there was anything that Stiles’ loved besides lacrosse and baseball, it had to be chimichangas from Sam’s Diner and Lydia Martin. The only difference from Lydia and the chimichangas though, was that chimichangas were easy to get. Lydia, well Lydia had became a close friend. A friend who solved Beacon Hill’s supernatural problems by his side and with other close friends that have only made his life more stressful. He knew she would never see him more than that, but at least he had Malia to keep him distracted. Though he only hoped she could help him minimize his feelings for Lydia, which was working.

“So, I’ll see you tonight?” Malia whispers in his ear. Her breath hot and broken from their recent makeout session in his Jeep. He liked that he could do that to her. It made him feel as if he was finally meaning something to someone.

Stiles grins, taking his hand to her neck and pressing his mouth on her ear, “It’s not like my answer is going to make any difference,” he bites her ear, slowly releasing the soft tissue. “I’ll see you there.” He pauses, thinks for point two seconds, and says, “naked.”

He was kind of worried that his words would have creeped her out a bit, but in the past four months they have made their weekly night visits into more of a under-the-covers type of visits. He doesn’t like to think about it as much though. How his first time was with a girl he barely knew, but yet, trusted her. She had became someone close and of great desire. Someone who was beautiful to him and his body. Someone he liked, but also, it someone who wasn’t Lydia. 

Stiles had imagined his first time a million different ways, and it was always with Lydia. The boy has had a crush on her since he was eight. Lydia Martin was the girl who sat in front of him with the perfect shiny curls that hanged from her headband and had turned to ask him if he could throw away a piece of paper. It had been a love note from Greenberg. It was the first time he had been mesmerized by her beauty like the other boys in class. Her green eyes staring bright and deeply to his own. Her strawberry blonde long hair with bangs that shaped her round rosy cheeked face. Her pink glittery gel-pen with the feathers that outshined anyone elses simple black Bic pens. Eight year old Stiles with the bowl cut has never said no to her since then.

He realized he was in love with the girl at the age of thirteen when he questioned himself why he was constantly thinking about her. Why, for the past five years, he would save up his five dollar monthly allowances to buy her the biggest anonymous valentines gift. Why he would wake up with a surprise in the mornings. Why he couldn’t wait to see her after class even though he was dating Samantha Marks for a week. Why his heart would ache when Jackson Whittemore kissed her cheek for the first time under the biggest slide on the playground.

Since then a lot has changed. He doesn’t like to say that thanks to Peter's werewolf bite on Scott, he was able to call someone like Lydia a friend. But it was true. All of the near death experiences with the supernatural in the past two years have been because he and Scott had once decided to look for half a body on a cold rainy night in the woods.

Now Stiles was with a beautiful girl whom he sometimes forgets she is someone from the supernatural side of the spectrum as well. Well, Stiles tend to ignore she is a werecoyote up until she takes out her claws under the bedsheets. The new werecoyote he has mentored for almost four months on human behavior, still had some way to go, but not much.

In the Jeep, Malia brushes her lower lip all along his jaw with a soft purr in between. She meets him nose to nose and kisses his lips once. “You better be,” she responds, and without hesitation she jumps out and begins to make her way to her home. Home is where Stiles should head to, but after an intense lacrosse game, it was time to celebrate with a mega-chimichanga from Sam’s Diner. Take-out, he thought. He’ll even take one for his dad, but he knew he might end up devouring that one as well.

The night was pretty cold for the mids of February by the time he stepped out of the Jeep. He always thought it was sort of cool how running around and heating up your body can make cold nights feel like a sweater is made of sweat and body heat. It was best to reach for his purple sweater, but the double doors were a few steps away. He knew he could handle a bit of cold.

The first step inside reminded him of what he was missing out on. He once brought Malia over. She thought the smell of grease was too intense and old. The onions were even worse. She thought it was weird how breakfast could be served at all times of the day and questioned him why he would rather pay for a tortilla with beans and meat when he could get something better from the local chinese takeout. Oh, and he knew he wouldn’t forget the time the waitress asked him if he wanted coffee and her claws digged into the table. Jealousy can be pretty intense in her and he reminded himself that whenever Malia was around and dinner was in their plans, Sam’s Diner was definitely not on the list.

There was that strong scent of coffee beans that swirled it’s way into his nose. The distant chatter and laughter of the few guests sitting in the maroon booths. Some of which were from school. The noise of the soda machine pouring drinks. The grill as raw food landed on the heat. This, Stiles knows, is the place he needed to be. He hadn’t realize he had forgotten about all this in such a short time.

A waitress, one of the freshmen he had seen around, helped him settle on a booth near the bathrooms. Something he wasn’t so fond of, but it wasn’t like he planned on taking his time eating anyways. After debating over take-out or dine-in he chose to dine in and asked for extra sour cream and guacamole for the mega chimichanga he had ordered. The girl said she wouldn’t take long, but he knew better to get his hopes up.

He began playing with the napkins and making origami shapes with them. He heard a cry from a kid who wanted desert yet didn’t want to finish his meal. He heard the chef yelling at the cooks to “hurry the fuck up”. He heard everyone but the waitress coming over anytime soon.

His foot began dancing to the beat of a country song playing. One of Scott's favorites. He should of invited Scott, but Stiles knew better. Scott would prefer to spend a victorious win with Kira which left him with the choice of inviting Liam orr Derek. Liam had became really popular with the upper class ladies for being one of the best in lacrosse and lets not forget, for also being the freshman hot stud.

Derek lived quite far from the diner. So, he chose to keep the distance as an excuse. The man would probably not attempt to make any sort of conversation between them whatsoever and probably scowl at him the whole time.

After five minutes of playing around with more than seven napkins, the doors swing open, and his curiosity took his divided attention to the girl with the face of an angel who had broken it’s wings. Lydia.

His legs immediately shoot him up, leaving the half made half ripped origami pieces behind as he made his way over to her. He can’t quite put together the last time they spoke or even seen each other. In class she took notes, rarely looked over to him anymore. She was always the first to get in her car and leave straight home after the last bell. After the incident with the oni, she had been distant. It was clear why. Everyone knew what lives were lost during that time, and Stiles felt as if he needed to say hi.

But as soon as she sat down in a booth with dim lighting hanging from a lamp that was too low, he could see as he made his way towards her, why he became so curious with her that instant. There was something off. She was like a broken glass all along the floor. Her green eyes had lost it’s shine and were still and hollow as if the life has been sucked out of them. She looked like a porcelain doll without the rosy cheeks and no smile. Taking a seat across from her, Stiles could see her insane look of desperation. He felt as if he could feel it himself. The hurt, the emptiness. But, it was beautiful to him because he knew he wanted to pick up the broken pieces.

"Hey," He says taking a seat opposite from her.

She looks up at him, surprised. "Hi," she replies.

 

\---

 

That night, Malia found Stiles in his navy blue old T-shirt and plaid bottoms. He knew she expected him to come out with a joke and tell her that she could help him remove his clothing, but instead he took her hands in his. They were cold from the night outside, and slender like he came so accustomed to hold onto.

“I need time,” Stiles holds on tight to her hands, not daring to look up. “We need to think this through.”

Malia didn’t take it as good. She flipped his bed over, broke the desk chair, ripped apart a photo they had taken in a picture booth from the cinema. He didn’t mind though, and he didn’t stop her either. It was a reaction he expected and a reaction that reminded him that someone cared. Something he was risking all for Lydia.

That night he went to sleep after cleaning up the mess and putting new sheets on. He had to admit that it was strange how weird and different it felt without having Malia’s long slender arms around him.

He never thought he would actually miss something like that. But then again, it was probably his teenage hormonal body wishing to have hers pressed against his.

 

\---

 

The first time Stiles stopped by Lydia’s was a week after Malia and him had called it a break. Obviously he knew it was all his doing, but he couldn’t deny that seeing Malia avoid him and give him death glares during class was something that made him feel guilty. Yet, he didn’t wish to change because even though he blamed their break as something too rushed, he knew that it was all for Lydia Martin.

That night at the diner when he took her pale hand in his, he knew she needed him. And Stiles dreaded the fact that he didn’t notice it sooner. 

He was a bit surprise when she opened her door and see him there. Stiles decided it was best to make a joke, laugh, break the ice.

"I like what you did to the place," he points out to the new shade of light blue in the room. "Different, " he adds. It had been months since he last stepped in here and he preferred the light purple shade it had once been.

Lydia looks around but doesn't comment on it, just shrugs. "Stiles, what exactly are you doing here?"

It was exactly what he was had been expecting from her minus the awkward and annoyed tone to her voice. But also, he knew exactly what he was doing here. Deep down, Stiles was here because he saw a broken girl a week ago. A girl who never showed her weakness to anyone and she showed it to him. Even if she didn’t realise it herself.

Today, Stiles stood in front of a girl with little to no make-up and a tired gaze. She is wearing a simple sweater and a skirt. Hair up. There was something off about it though. No bright gloss or necklace. She usually adds a tint of color to her eyelids and cheeks but there was nothing there as well.

This wasn't Lydia Martin. The Lydia Martin. His Lydia Martin.

"Lydia, what's wrong?" he says in a softly taking a step closer after closing the door, but she looks down and shakes her head.

"Nothing's wrong, Stiles. Everything is terribly fine for once," she says in a monotone voice. A bit haunting to him.

Stiles studies her voice, and she wouldn't look up. She was focused on the trash bin under her desk. Not blinking or moving. Her index finger rubbed against her thumb. Detail was what he was good at. Always has been and it told him that something was bothering her, and she wasn't planning on telling him.

Stiles realizes then that Lydia's wide tired eyes didn't refer to herself when she responded to his question. Yes, everything was fine in Beacon Hills. No more of the supernatural. No more deaths. No one needed the banshee anymore, and Lydia was not fine.

"Lydia." Stiles reaches out to her, she flinches at the sound of his voice which kept him at an unstable position. "Are you okay?"

And that's when she surprises him. She doesn't blink as her eyes shed its first tear. She wouldn't look at him and he was growing with frustration and anger.

Frustration because she wasn't responding and anger because he knew why it was taking her long to speak. He knew why and he was disappointed in himself for not seeing it sooner.

"Lydia." He says, holding himself back. For all he knew, maybe he was the only person who has asked her that in a long time. The only person who has noticed her pain.

She turns slowly, her lips part slightly and all her hurt and pain was expressed through those olive eyes that needed life. He wanted to hold her and keep her close, but it was too late. He was too late.

"No," she says, barely audible. "I'm not okay." 

The ache in Stiles' chest in that instant made him feel as if it was set on fire. If only it were actually happening to keep him from seeing the pain on Lydia's face right now.

Lydia was alone. Since her best friend Allison died along with her ex-boyfriend Aiden, everyone went back to dealing with their own problems. Scott and Kira became an item. The thing with the oni ended and Beacon Hills was finally somewhat normal. He took his time with Malia every single day.

Stiles was guilty of it all. He ignored Lydia. The Lydia who was thought to be strong, independent, and okay. The Lydia he thought to be strong and okay. The Lydia he ignored because he knew was strong and okay.

Lydia takes her hands to her face and starts crying.

"Oh Lydia," he steps to her and wraps his arms around her. She surprises him when she wraps her around his torso a second later.

Right there, holding her tight and letting her cry all her pain out, was something he should have done four months ago. Something he should of woken up to do everyday since she was hurting because of the death that was so close to her. Something the Stiles that loved Lydia Martin would have done.

It was too late. All too late. But he was determine to fix her. Prove to her that Stiles was there. Good ol' Stiles was back.

"Hey, it's okay" he says patting her back slightly, "Cry. Cry all you want. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Her sobs didn’t increase or minimized. She only clenched herself tighter and kept him close. Something that sparked a familiar warmth to his chest, that made him feel good to be there. He cared for her and he knew was was doing good, even though he was four months late.

That evening, Stiles Stilinski came back in through her window when Ms. Martin believed he was gone.

Lydia wanted him to stay the night, and fully clothed in his jeans and button up shirt, nothing felt more comfortable than warping his arms around her small frame structure. He told her he would stay until she fell asleep, and it was taking her quite a while.

He was surprised when she rolled to his side of the bed and told him to hold her. She needed him and he would do anything keep her.

"Goodnight," he whispers, lips on her hair. The smell of strawberry shampoo making him ignore the fact that this was all so new and so sudden and so out of place, but also, so so good.

She presses her head closer to his chest, hand on his midsection, "Stiles, your heart is beating fast." Tone not surprised. Something he was happy to hear because it showed that the same old sassy Lydia was still there.

He swallows, "Oh! Umm..." he hesitates. "Only for you Lydia. Only for you." which was true, but dumb.

She didn't laugh, but he could imagine her smiling. Once he thought it was the last of it, Lydia interwinds her legs with his, and gets comfortable in his arms.

"Night," she mumbles.

He held his breath in his throat, and there was two reasons why. One, he couldn't believe he was actually sleeping with Lydia. Even though he was planning on leaving in a few more minutes, this was the definition of sleeping with someone and the fact that she is letting him was even more hard to believe. Two, well he had to contain himself from exciting himself too much and causing an embarrassing erection. For all he knew, Stiles was probably there as that friend to her. The friend she counted on and believed in the banshee within.

 

\--- 

 

"Why. The. Hell. Didn't you tell me?" Lydia shoves Stiles onto his metal locker in the lacrosse team’s locker room. The lock pinning his lower back, making it ache. Some of the boys who were yet to leave looked, but didn't linger. That he was glad for. He didn’t want to be seen that Lydia was taking him on and winning.

It had been three days since they began hanging out again and Stiles was planning on telling her that he and Malia had taken a break. Odds are this was what Lydia was referring to, but every time they were together all he thought about was trying to make her smile. The one goal.

"Hey, Lydia." he said cautiously, putting his hands up in the air to show surrender. She was intimidating. At least that hasn't changed.

"No. Don’t you 'Hey' me," she presses harder, making him wince and she pressed herself onto his chest, on her toes. "Tell me. Were you even planning on telling me?" She demanded.

He liked the way her face made that line between her eyebrows when she was mad. The slight pout of her tinted lips . Her hard green gaze as she stared up. She was so beautiful, and it hurt. Despite the obvious pain on his lower back.

"I... need to go to practice," he says slowly. Raising his eyebrows, it was more of a question than an obvious fact. “You know how coach can get.”

Lydia rolls her eyes and takes him by his shoulders as she shoves him again. The empty locker room echoed to the metal hitting his skin. He could practically hear his own breath, and that was not a good sign.

"Stiles." She said through her teeth. Death glare intact.

"Alright, alright. Just make sure you leave Stiles in one piece. Sheesh." She takes his hands down, though she didn't move and held onto her menacing grip. “Okay, what are you talking about?”

She raises one eyebrow, "Malia. That’s what i’m talking about."

And for Stiles this could make it or break it. Here goes nothing, he thinks. "Okay, here's the thing. I didn't tell you about Malia because I didn't think it would matter to you, alright?”

The look on her face was something that wanted more. The face she knew he had more to say and was not leaving until he did.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “ We were rushing into things, alright? And I wasn't really feeling it after four months. I thought I would, like love her, but it's true. Time does tell. And it told me that we weren't right."

He thought it was enough, but it was obviously not all. He forgot the “I love you's” and the “you need me's” and the “I need you to need me's”. But this was fine. Or at least he thought it was.

Lydia didn’t loosen her grip, but she steps back a bit to give him comfort. The metal wasn't as friendly. Neither was Lydia, but Lydia he could handle.

Her face softens a bit. Stiles hoped it was because she may have felt guilty for shoving him into the lockers, but Lydia wasn't as nice when it came to torture. That he can guarantee.

"Oh," she breaths looking away.

Stiles expected more than just "Oh". He could tell she needed to hear more so he decided to take the opportunity.

"I mean, we were a combination of more lust than love. I really wished that she could help me love her, but in the end, I would just wish the night to end."

It took him saying it outloud to believe it himself. Malia was a great girl. Bright and beautiful. She was a tough one too, and good at kissing and touching and making him feel good. But that was it. There wasn’t that spark where he could see their relationship going past the sex and the kisses and now it was out. Lydia was the first one to hear it and, and Stiles suddenly became worried that she would take it wrong and walk away.

“Well then,” Lydia releases her grip taking yet another and bigger step back, “That was more information that I hoped for.”

“I mean you asked, didn’t you?”

Lydia looks away, and takes a moment.

“I don’t need your charity work, Stiles. So, leave me alone.” She crosses her arms. Face suddenly hard again. 

“Charity? Really, Lydia? It’s not charity work. It’s called being a friend and caring,” He steps towards her, a bit annoyed himself.

Stiles could hear coach yelling and blowing the whistle, but nothing became as important as watching Lydia’s reaction to his words. He could tell she liked the sound of having him near, and near he was going to be. But Lydia was keeping her hard face one despite his words which he kind of enjoyed.

“I still don’t need you,” She chimed. “So leave me alone.” She turns around and began to walk away.

Stiles wanted to reach for her, but he let her take a few steps towards the door before he opened his mouth. “Lydia, wait.”

She stopped but didn’t turn.

“What now, Stiles?”

“No.”

She turns around slightly. Her little body consumed by the high walls of the lockers. The blue sweater complimented her skin tone. She didn’t look defeated. She was outside of her bedroom and she was the Lydia who hid her pain to everyone else.

He looks at the light above her and squints, “There’s something wrong with you, and i’m going to figure it out."

Lydia's jaw tightens. The sudden tension between the two had become something serious. Stiles was hoping to keep their interaction playful and exciting, but it was true. There was something wrong. Two years ago he wouldn't have said the same. The girl didn't even know he exists, let alone know that he cared for her.

"Stiles," she clenches her teeth, “Just because you notice, it doesn’t mean i’m always like that. You caught me at my worst and right now all I need is for you to fix things with Malia because you can’t let her go.”

“Why can’t I?” He says without thinking.

“Because,” She closes her eyes, “I know what you are doing.”

“And whats that?”

The space between them seemed to shorten, but none of them had moved. Something in Stiles knew she was going to say it. No doubt. She wasn’t dumb and he knew that too. Right now, he did want to close the space between them and kiss her. But, kissing her will only mask their problems at the moment. It wouldn't fix things.

“You are trying to pretend that the last four months didn’t happen, Stiles. Pretend that you were there, helping me stand and grieve, and you weren’t,” She looks over to the exit of the locker room. He needed to speak up before she decided to walk away. “And I really needed you there,” She says after pausing. It surprised him.

“Lydia, you knew me and Scott were helping Malia.” He takes some steps forward protesting, just far enough to reach for her if she tries to leave.

She rolls her eyes, “Obviously I knew that. The girl is useless without you, so go back before she figures out what you are doing and dewclaws my eyes out. ”

“Hey, careful. Malia has come a long way. And for your information, she’s actually more friendly now.”

“You should know,” She crosses her arms.

Stiles sighs, “Lydia.”

“Stiles.”

“Lydia! God, can I ever talk to you? Listen to me. You are going to have to deal with my bullshit until these nails of yours yanks off the pretty little ears off of your own head. Okay? I told you about Malia, and no, i’m not trying to pretend the last few months didn’t happen. I’m not avoiding that at all. I’m here now because I didn’t go away. You distanced yourself from me to, so don’t you blame it all on me.”

Her nose flares a bit, he was getting to her and he knew he should stop but she needed to know and understand that he knows what he’s doing here.

“You don’t know what i’m going through,” She steps up to him. Her eyes hard and watery from the tears that want to form. “What i’ve been through.”

He felt guilty for making her feel anywhere near tears. He was far from a smile. 

“No, I do. I may not know all, but I will sit and listen. I sat and listen when you wouldn’t look at me for more than a second. I sat and listen when you asked me to throw away the love notes you got from other boys in class. I even sat and listen when that stupid, idiotic, low life son of a bitch, broke your unbelievable pure heart. And now, I want to sit and listen to you talk about Allison and Aiden and anything else that’s preventing you from smiling again. I want you to tell me about all that, okay. Okay?”

Stiles didn’t know when exactly his voice had risen or when he had ran out of breath. He was now standing a foot away from her, his body towering over. She was searching for something in his eyes, and he didn’t dare to move a muscle because he liked the feeling. The feeling that now she knew and she believed him.

“I didn’t ask you to listen,” She says, tear sliding down the base of her cheekbone.

“You didn’t have to,” He says reaching up, taking that tear to his thumb. “I wanted to.”

Lydia looks up, her face scared. “You don’t know what you are getting yourself into.”

“Why not?” He smiles slightly, taking his other hand to her face.

“Because,” she says placing her hands on his wrists, “I won’t be able to love you back.”

 

\---

 

That evening, Stiles went home sore from the extra suicide runs coach Finstock made him run for being late. There was no Malia, not Scott, and no Lydia.

Lydia told him to give her the night. So he did.

The next morning at school, she surprises him by meeting him at his locker and slamming him against it.

“Lydia, what the-”

His protest was cut short with a simple kiss that tasted of a combination of mint and coconut chapstick. 

 

\---

 

For being the last day of his junior year in highschool, it couldn't have ended any better. Yeah, the year had barely any ups and many, in fact, too many downs that he was actually surprised to see himself and his friends officially becoming the seniors of Beacon Hills High School. Especially Scott, but the boy did good. Stiles knew he would, and also Malia. She worked hard for it.

Malia still held a grudge against him despite the three months that had passed since he decided it was best to part their ways. The shove against the trash bin was clear enough for him to get the message through. Maybe the summer would bring up an opportunity where she and him can finally interact normally. Maybe.

The lacrosse season ended with a big championship and a trophy in which coach Finstock had threatened the teammates with yet another serious case of missing testicals if they broke or scratched any part of it. Most of the team decided to treat Liam as the trophy in the end for making the last goal of the season. Nobody wanted to risk losing their manhood.

The halls were filled with laughter and cheers. It was hard for him to believe it was over though. He had made it. There was one more year left until he was done for sure, and he had to give props to himself for not getting himself get t killed. Especially since the thing with the oni and the nogitsune almost had him killed and cost him many lives. Yeah, especially that. But then, there was more to it. The one thing he couldn't believe that had occurred this year. Stiles Stilinski was walking the last day of school hand in hand with the Lydia Martin.

It caused many faces to turn when she first took his hand in hers three months ago. but also it had caused him great joy to call someone like her his girlfriend.

He couldn't believe it, and still, it felt as if it were all a dream he was going to wake up to in any given moment. Hopefully it never did, but it all seemed unreal. Especially when she straddled him while making out in his bedroom and he struggled to breath right.

The taste of her lips, the smoothness of her hair, her soft delicate moans that were consumed by his own. The temptation, oh how it became hard to contain. It was too good. Way too good.

"Lydia," He struggles to say as she began nipping on his neck and trying to unbutton his jeans. Too good. Way too good. But also, it wasn't right, and with her it had to be. At least something better than this small messy bedroom of his. "Lydia, please."

Lydia bites hard right under his ear, which made him shiver uncontrollably and, of course, really make him want more of this. Want more of her. Especially her and especially now.

"Yes?" She glides her lower lip along his skin, outlining the crook of his neck. Her hands making their way under his shirt, her hands on his torso, pressing hard.

Temptation, boy was she good at temptation. And he was going to stop this before his body went any further and unable to resist. She was really good at this game. Practically amusement to her ears. She liked the sight of his resisting. Something she could joke about after the heat had died down.

"Good God, Lydia," he swallows, clenching his hands on his mattress. He could feel his veins bursting with the rush of blood that was pulsing too fast. And it was feeling too good, and he wanted to stop, and now he didn't believe he could.

"What?" Lydia whispers, bringing his shirt right underneath his chest, admiring the view and switching off to look at his eyes and back. "Don’t tell me Stiles going to give up again?" She leans in closer, making his elbows weak and if he thought he was struggling to breath right before, he was definitely wrong.

She was close to touching his lips. Yet another game she loved to play with him, to see who would give up and kiss first. Stiles would always lose obviously. There was no way he was going to say no to those lips.

She stares at his flushed lips, red from the surprise bites from their makeout session before it led to this.

"You know you want this, Stiles," the space between their lips smaller, her hands going lower, his arms beginning to shake as his hands dig deeper into the mattress. "Just. Give. In," She says sawing her hips around his, making his mouth wine and elbows give up on their combined weight. His hands instantly holding fistfulls of the hem of her dress.

He had lost the battle, but something in his chest told him that it wasn't just his body screaming for hers as he ripped the dress away. It was also his soul, reaching out for hers. Needing her, wanting her, keeping her close and wrapping it around his.

This was so good and, so, so right.

 

\---

Out of those million and one times he had imagine his first time, with Lydia, he finally understood why there was no need of the rose petals or the expensive champagne and the five star hotel. All he needed was right there with him.

The night was dark, but the moon made it brighter. It swallowed his room in a blue world in which allowed Stiles to see the fair skin of her back as she rested his head on his chest. Her breaths peaceful and slow.

For the past two years, he had always had something against the moon. Maybe because of what it did to the people he called friends, but maybe it was because of how beautiful and kind it really was and he grew envious of it for being that. Without it, he wouldn't have been here. Without it, Lydia Martin wouldn't have been in his arms.

Staring out his window, Stiles looked at the silver moon illuminating his room as he played slightly with Lydia's soft curls. He realized that grudges don't last long. Things change, people changed, and he was living the proof that circumstances change as well. 

"I can see the moon reflecting through your eyes," Lydia whispers, her lazy voice bringing a warmth that caused joy and closure to his chest. He looks away from the moon and smiles down at Lydia. Her face looked at peace, calm, and so delicate. He wanted her to stay like that forever.

"I love you," Stiles confesses without warning. He wasn’t expecting her to return it, so it didn't bother him when she reached up instead to place a simple, soft, slow kiss on his lips.

Stiles took note of the hint sadness of her eyes when she pulled away. She was trying to cover it with a smile he came to believe he couldn't live a single day without. It reminded him that he was still going to do as promised and help her regain her happiness. Which was working in his opinion.

 

\---

 

The first time she laughed, actually really laughed, with her mouth agape and the wrinkles on the corner of her eyes and there was signs of tears forming in her eyes, was the day he decided he wanted to make her laugh forever.

The beginning of July. That holiday where Americans took a day off from their everyday schedules to grill every possible thing on the menu. Lydia’s mom decided to invite all of Lydia’s close friends along with their families over to the lake house they had. It was really big in his opinion, and apparently beside the extra bedrooms and bathrooms, it also had extra hiding places in which Lydia already gave him a tour of.

He walked away out of breath and with flushed cheeks.

The heat lingering in his body made him put two and two together, which resulted in making Lydia change into her bikini and he in his swim trunks. “What’s a lake house when you won’t even bother with the lake?” He had asked her when she scowled at the idea of jumping in the water. Kira and Scott tagged along. Malia decided to stay back with Derek and Peter near the grill. She wouldn't even look at the boy.

At first Lydia was being stubborn and didn’t want to get in the water, “My skin is not compatible with the filth in there,” she exclaimed putting on her sun glasses and resiting on the towel she had set out by the shoreline.

He sighs, hearing Scott and Kira splash water to one another and diving in. She had opened a magazine that had the bold words of, “GET THIN IN 24HRS,” and “PERFECT SKIN IN SUMMER HEAT,” and “100 BEST SEX TIPS.”

Shaking his head, knowing that she will hold this against him for a long time, he walked up to her and picked her up bridal style. She began hitting him of course, and yelling at him with many threats along with a harsh tone he came to adore. But, through those awful words there was a bit of amusement to her voice. And this was good, really good.

“Stiles I swear-AH!” She screeches as soon as he was waist deep in the water, and her butt was barely touching it. She tightens her arms around him, “Oh my, I hate you,” her nails dig deep into his skin.

Stiles rolls his eyes and spins around, making her tighten her grip on him even harder, which made her laugh out. “Stiles!” Something he never came to recognize on her.

He stops, not because she wanted to, but because he wanted to. It was the first time she had actually laughed so freely, so carelessly. And with the sun kissing her glowing skin, there was nothing that stopped him from leaning in and kissing her himself.

Pulling away, there was a tint of color on her cheeks. She had a smile as well, and despite setting her down in the water she didn’t let go. The water reached right under her chest, the green on her bikini made him want to go and get lost in one of the many rooms inside that home a few yards away again.

She held onto his waist, her eyes bright and sincere with kindness, “Thank you.” She said.

He didn’t want to ask what for because he already knew. She was getting better, and he, well he was getting worse. The love for her was increasing at great lengths and he didn’t mind, but it did scare him a bit.

 

\---

 

The day Stiles found Lydia crying inside her car on her driveway, was the first time he felt the empty feeling in his heart. Maybe he was doing something wrong. Maybe she was getting tired of the chimichangas from Sam’s. Maybe she’s still hurting, and he wasn’t the one for the job.

They made plans to stay at hers that evening. Summer was on the verge of ending and he agreed on bringing dinner for the both of them and dine on her rooftop. He didn’t expect to arrive to a crying Lydia. Something he made sure to avoid in the past five months they have been together.

Setting his bike and the bag with the foil wrapped chimichangas aside, he goes over to the passenger seat and sits without saying a word.

“I can’t do this anymore,” She says without looking at him. “I can’t.”

His insides twist. His chest tightens, “Lydia-”

“-No. You don’t understand.” She turns, hitting the wheel, her eyes smudged from the makeup that ran, “Why are you doing this to me, Stiles.”

With confusion he searches her eyes. This wasn’t happening to him. The car suddenly felt small. “Doing what?”

“Making me forget about Allison!” She yells, her voice rough. “You are too good at it. Really good.”

A weight releases his shoulders, but a bit of anger was replaced instead. “Why would I want you to forget about her? Lydia,” He exclaims, practically hitting his hands on the dashboard, “That’s the last thing I want you to do, okay? The last thing.”

A pain hits his throat, but he wasn’t going to let the tears come out.

“Then why does it feel like I am forgetting? Why am I not feeling guilty for enjoying all of this? ” She looks around quickly, stopping to look at him. “Why does it feel like i’m accepting her death?”

Stiles takes her shaking hands to his lips. He knew what she was going through because he once did, and it was all too crazy and so wrong, but right at the same time. He knew what to expect. “Because, Lydia. Because that’s what happens when you lose someone close. Soon, y’know, life will still go on. And, you are going to be okay with it.” Like mine went on when my mother died, he says in his mind, choosing to keep it that way.

She was no longer crying, but there was still a piece of guilt and emotion plastered on her face. Her eyes said that she understood where he was coming from. Everyone knew about the Sheriff's wife when it happened.

“And,” He continues, “You don’t have to feel guilty about being happy again. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ve forgotten them, because no matter what, they will always be here,” He places a finger on her chest, “Alright?”

Lydia nods quickly and leans over to hug him. Despite the stick shift between them, it felt right. He was glad this didn’t end how he first expected it to. Which was good, because he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if that had occurred.

Tightening her grip she mumbles, “I don’t deserve you.”

Stiles closes his eyes at the pain of her voice. She was wrong, because she deserved every part of him. She deserved his love, his care, his ability to understand her. She deserved everything and everything taken for granted because she was the girl who knew how to fight. A strong woman who had been taken down by fools in the past who didn’t see her full potential. She was beautiful inside and out, and Stiles knew she deserved every last bit of love in him.

Pulling away, he kisses her cheek slightly.

“Now,” He smiles slightly, “How do slightly warm chimichangas sound?”

 

\---

 

Lydia Martin. The Lydia Martin entered the halls of Beacon Hills high school with a message. She was back.

As seniors, Stiles and Scott felt at the top of the food chain for once. The senior boys of the lacrosse team. The senior boys with the long lashes, the height, the hair, and the perfect girls by their side. Their faces still young but old and defined enough to scare the incoming lower classmen from stepping outside of their boundaries. It was their last year, and boy was Stiles looking forward to the rest of the year if every day meant looking at the clock above the teachers board only to wait for the bells ring and knowing she was going to be there waiting for him.

The feeling of being loved and in love. The anxiety of want. The pressure of the chest. The way his heart practically skips a beat when she squeezed his hip after a lingering hug in the halls.

“Hey beautiful,” Stiles sings, hooking his arm around her.

Lydia rolls her eyes, “Always the charmer,” she says leaning onto him.

The stares, the envy, the things Stiles never saw himself being part of. He knew there were other seniors who stood up at his level, but they have been there before. Many of the lowerclassmen didn’t know about the band-shirt-and-blazer Stilinski who searched police reports for fun. Now he was the old Stiles but better and improved with many cool friends and better style.

But, Lydia was back, and he knows he doesn’t like to brag. Stiles knew that, because of him, she was walking the halls with her head high, heels spotless, and curls flawless. Her sassiness never actually went away. It just enhanced, and he knew how to handle that.

 

\---

 

One day after school during one of the first lacrosse practices for the winter season, Stiles found himself walking alone back to his car in the parking lot because he had left his lacrosse gear there. Lydia brought her car on the days he stayed for practice so she wouldn’t have to wait for him.

“You are really good, y’know, at helping people.” A familiar voice he had hadn’t heard be addressed to him in the past nine months said. It was Malia.

He turns, expecting to see her tall and lean and with a hard face, but she was just standing there, unamused.

“Malia. W-what a surprise,” Stiles releases his bag on the floor and closes the blue metal door behind him shut.

Malia shrugs and looks at her nails. It only lasted a second before he began eyeing him, “You know, I really miss that fit body of yours. I wonder what Lydia said when she saw your back for the first time.” She said, stepping up towards him, her body firmly pressed against his.

There was a familiar smirk on her face. Her eyes wide and doll-like. A hand on his torso while the other outlined his face with her claws. He knew she was just trying to tease him. There wasn’t any good intentions from this. Especially coming from a werecoyote who has had less than one year of behavioral training and a broken heart.

Stiles turns his head away, “What do you want, Malia?”

Theres a slight laugh from her, but this time with a slight purr.

“Oh, y’know what I want. But don’t worry, I just came here as the good friend I am to congratulate you on the nomination for the winter formal,” Her lips are centimeters away from his, “But,” she continues, taking her face away from his, “I gotta say Stiles, you really know how to fix a girl. Never seen a bigger bitch in my life.”

Stiles removes her by her wrists, “Malia.” Eyes intense and jaw tight.

“Oh, I could see you’ve been working out,” She gazes at his arms, “That… Lydia. Lucky, lucky, B-” Stiles presses harder into her wrists and Malia winces, “-eautiful girl.” She finishes with a giggly laugh.

He wasn’t sure if it was anger that was radiating off of him, or ir was just annoyance. This wasn’t the kind, warm hearted, charismatic Malia he came to know and adore. This was the girl who knew how to confront the things she dislikes. The predator ready to intimidate it’s prey, and Stiles was not going to fall into her tricks.

So, he shoves her away, and like expected, she pouts.

“Aw, is witto Stiles mad?” Malia tries to step up again, but he places a hand and pushes her slightly back to where she had stood. “Man, I really do hope she knows what she has her hands on. Don’t want her reputation as the school slut to come back now that she is A-Ok.”

Stiles fists his hands and she notices, “What?” a small chuckle comes out, “Are you seriously planning on laying a finger on me?”

He swallows, “No,” he says reaching down for his bag, “I’m planning on going to practice.”

Malia’s words weren’t what bothered him out on the field that afternoon. It was her laughter in the end of it all. She had won because she had been right. The old Lydia was back, and it scared him to think that old Lydia meant old habits.

Yeah she tried to make out with him in the storage room a couple times, but he would prevent that. Boys from all grades admired her beauty and he would scowl at them, but she never gave them the attention back. She loved the attention though, but that attention made him feel left out. Like he knew he didn’t belong in her little world anymore, and never did.

But then nights like these, when he was home and showered and Lydia knocked on his door while his dad took a late shift at the station, he knew that Malia may have been right on another thing. She and him have changed, but for each other.

“Hey beautiful,” he mumbles onto her neck while she closes the door behind them.

She smiled. And that smile guaranteed them that they were okay. Malia was wrong about her going back. Lydia was back to normal and they were going to win winter formal king and queen and graduate and attend to Stanford University.

Yeah, all that.

 

\---

 

California was known for its great weather. He was glad Beacon Hills never heard of a snow day on the forecast, especially for the winter break.

The holiday brought him many things. New heating system for his Jeep from Scott, Kira and dad. A new metal bat from Derek because he said he was tired of the shitty $39.99 rip off he had. The lovely girl that leaned on him while watching a movie together was the best gift he had asked for. Her strawberry blonde hair on his chest created a perfect distraction as they watched a movie that was made in 1985 with a bad makeup artist and a boy who was bit on a full moon.

Lydia thought it would be funny.

Her shirt was lifted a bit on her left side, he could see the silver outline of what had once been a deep wound. He knew what it was from. It was from the night she had thought he had lost her forever.

Stiles had obviously noticed the outline of the scar before. Big and thought to be once really deep into her ivory flesh. He never commented on it because usually when her shirt was off, so was his mind. A brainless Stiles was hard to keep focus to such things like this.

His hand glides above the silky surface, she slaps her hand away.

“What?” He exclaims, kissing the two fingers that her palm mainly got a good slap of.

“Don’t look at that,” She scowls at him, pulling her shirt down.

“Why not?” He asks, taking the same hand she slapped back to the spot she had covered with her shirt. He lifts it up just enough to see it all. Two major vertical lines about two centimeters wide and half a foot long.

“Because,” She exclaims hitting his hand away again, “Its ugly and unflattering.”

Stiles liked the way her nose wrinkled at the thought. It was cute. Obviously she didn’t see the beauty on such a thing. Such a memory and story to tell.

He takes her face by her chin and meets her lips for a small slow pec. Once leaning just far enough to catch the look in her eyes he says, “Imperfection is a beautiful thing. Don’t be afraid of that.”

 

 

\---

 

The news came a week after winter vacation. He was the talk and the whispers of the halls. The worried look in Scott eyes. The tense feeling in his chest when he heard his name.

Jackson Whittemore was back.

“Wocha, asswipe,” Jackson said along with a wink as he passed by Stiles in the halls.

 

\---

 

That night, the lacrosse team had a new co-captain. Again.

He showered and went to bed.

Lydia texted him. She had AP Bio flashcards to work on.

 

\---

 

If there was a day he was given the opportunity to avoid, it would be February, 02, 2015.

It began like usual. He picks up Lydia in the morning, they got to school, he gets off first and opens the door for her. But thats when the normal day ended. She wouldn’t talk to him along the way. If he asked her a question her response would be short. Emotionless. Cold.

During class he avoided the clock above the desk. He avoided answering questions he obviously knew the answers to. Scott knew better than to ask him if things were alright. It was obvious what had happened.

It took Jackson Whittemore less than a month to get Lydia while it took Stiles nine years.

 

\---

“ I didn’t expect it”

“ He was my first love.”

“ I hope you understand.”

“ You don’t deserved someone who doesn't deserve you, which is the reason why I am letting you go.”

“ Thank you. For everything.”

 

\---

 

Sheriff Stilinski came in from the station at 3:28 AM that night.

He found Stiles sitting under the open shower head. His clothes soaked and stucked to his skin. The skin on his fingers mimicked that of an elders. He knew his tears wouldn’t be seen if he was under the water.

“Oh, Stiles.”

“She’s in love with someone else, dad.” Stiles rocked forward and back. “Someone else.”

 

\---

 

He arrived at Sam’s at 9:36 PM. On the back of his acceptance letter to Columbia University, he wrote:

 

it hurt when I stumbled across her.

she was like broken glass all along the floor.

but it was beautiful and my curiosity got the best of me.

I remember looking at her and all I could see was pain.

she had this insane look of desperation; you could almost feel it.

and yet her eyes were still hollow; like the life had been sucked out of her.

I wanted to pick up her pieces.

I wanted to put her back together.

and so I tried. I really did.

I got a little cut along the way.

the more I tried to fix her the more fragile I became myself but I didn’t care.

I wanted to see her happy.

every time I made her laugh I thought about how I wanted to make her laugh forever.

she was getting better.

eventually she was put together enough to get up and walk away.

but she didn’t take me with her.

and I’ve been stuck sitting here where I first found her.

wondering if the pieces left on the floor are hers or mine.

I should probably get the fuck up.

 

\---

 

It was painful, but not impossible.

His number one goal was to see her smile and happy and he realized that he fixed her for him. She was now seen with a smile and happy.

Zipping up his hoodie, though it made no difference to the chattering of his teeth, he opens the the metal blue door one last time in this parking lot. Letter in the pocket of his pants.

The place didn’t feel right.

It smelled of grease and sweat and someone really needed to open the windows. Maybe just burn the place down.

“So, the Mega?” The same girl who worked here who was now a sophomore, asks him. She looked just as annoyed with the place. Her smile fake. Her eyes green.

“No, just coffee.”

By the time the girl arrived back to the table with a steaming cup of coffee, he was watching from the windshield of his Jeep. Mouth tight and knuckles grasping to whatever was left in him. Holding him still.

 

The opened acceptance letter was the only thing on the table with the lamp that was too dim and hanged too low for anyones liking.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I am sorry for doing this. I am so, so, bad.  
> Maybe theres no hope for humanity in me!  
> Gah!  
> Please comment? The feedback helps. 
> 
> Once again, the fic was inspired by this ---> http://sweet-tomorrow.tumblr.com/post/92387157927


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